


range of motion

by queenhomeslice



Series: Promptober 2020 [20]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Cowgirl Position, House Cleaning, Hurt Sex, M/M, Minor Injuries, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Prompto Argentum, Promnyx, Promptober 2020, Slutty Prompto Argentum, Top Nyx Ulric, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Nyx gets injured on a Kingslgaive mission and is out of commission for a couple of weeks. When Prompto finds out, he does everything he can to help him.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Nyx Ulric
Series: Promptober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937668
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	range of motion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ______
> 
> Promptober day 19: Help! 
> 
> Also this is my first Prom/Nyx story, be nice pls

Prompto’s in the locker rooms, fresh from his shower after training with Cor and the glaives. Several of the elite warriors had just gotten back from a mission outside of the wall, and Prompto’s a slut for battle stories, especially since he’s only been a part of the official Crownsguard for a few months. But he’s lucky that the glaives know what it’s like to be on the outside, and they’ve taken Prompto under their wing, and the plucky blond couldn’t be any more grateful. (Plus, they love to kidnap him and bring him to the refugee district for spicy Galahdian food and imported beer, and Prompto’s a sucker for a good meal with friends, especially if he’s not paying for it. 

He’s lacing up his boots when it hits him—he hasn’t seen Nyx Ulric for two days. His heart starts to flutter as he thinks about the devastatingly gorgeous older man. Nyx is arguably the best fighter on the Kingsglaive, which ups his hotness level by like two billion points, at least—but Prompto would still be head over heels if Nyx was the cashier at the Kwik-E-Mart around the corner from his house. How was he ever supposed to resist those impossibly deep blue-gray eyes, that gentle manner, or his quick wit? And not to mention his _body--_ Prompto usually has to rub one out in the shower after training because mock fighting with Nyx gets his adrenaline pumping in the worst-best way possible. The guy is like a ridiculous photoshop wet dream, except that he’s real, and completely unattainable, but Prompto’s honestly grateful just to be his friend and to learn from the best of the best. 

He tries to act casual and he hopes he’s not blushing as he turns to the Marshal. “Hey, uh—where's Nyx? Haven’t seen him lately.” Worry starts to take root in Prompto’s overly-anxious brain; he can’t help but think of worst-case scenarios. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Nyx went out and never came back. 

But Cor just shrugs and grabs his watch from his locker. “He took a pretty nasty hit to the shoulder from the daemons. He dislocated it, and had some nerve damage. Potions got rid of the worst of it, but Drautos put him on medical leave for at least a couple of weeks so it can heal fully.” 

“Oh shit.” Prompto winces, but sighs in relief, because at least Nyx is _alive._ He knows where his apartment is—he's ended up at the public housing unit on more than one occasion with Nyx, Crowe, Libertus, and several other others, sloshed as shit. He’s lost more than one pair of socks because he’s awful at poker (why do the glaives have a communal sock shortage, anyway?), and sleeping on the musty wooden floor while drunk isn’t always the best combo, but it’s fun and Prompto feels loved and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“Does he need any help, y’think?” Prompto zips his duffle bag and stretches, muscles burning from the rigorous physical training he’d done today. His biceps are particularly sore from holding various firearms for hours on end, but Prompto’s doesn’t hate how solid and defined they’re getting. He hopes Nyx likes strong arms. 

Libertus rumbles with laughter in the far corner, his thick body shaking with amusement. “Nah, you know Mr. Hero. Insists he doesn’t even need the leave, but the captain threatened to court martial Ulric if he showed up before the date on the temp leave paperwork.” 

Prompto chuckles. “Well, I’ll stop by anyway. If he’s got a shoulder out of commission, he probably needs help cleaning or something.” 

Cor gives him a slight smirk, and Prompto bites his lip and turns away. If anyone finds out about his massive crush on Nyx, he’s never gonna hear the end of it. 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate your services, kid.” 

Prompto gulps as he leaves the locker room, throwing up a wave as he leaves. He hears Libertus and Luche exchange some low whispers, but Prompto wills himself to keep walking. 

_______ 

“Just a minute!” 

Prompto rocks back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back as he clutches the heavy bags of groceries. He’d stopped at the immigrant-owned bodega that’s halfway between the Citadel and the refugee district, buying all the native Galahdian snacks and foods he knows Nyx likes. Prompto doesn’t do much with his Crownsguard stipend, and since he still lives at home, rent is a big expense he doesn’t have to worry about. He saves, mostly, with the exception of arcade outings and video game paraphernalia—but even Noctis buys him most of the geeky shit he owns. So spending some hard-earned cash on food and pain killers for a good friend is worth it to Prompto, and he knows that Nyx will appreciate it. 

The door opens, and Astrals help Prompto, Nyx is only wearing an old pair of sweatpants and Prompto’s socks he’d lost three weeks ago at blackjack, and nothing else. Nyx’s lean, cut body is littered with cuts and bruises, and his right shoulder is wrapped in bandages. He looks tired and slightly annoyed, probably from having to be cooped up at home—but Prompto nearly melts when Nyx’s beautiful face twists into a wide grin. 

“Hey Prompto!” 

Shit, Prompto’s so weak. If his rampant self-deprecation has a silver lining, it’s that it’s the only thing keeping Prompto from sinking to his knees whenever Nyx gets undressed in the showers after training. Prompto forces himself to look at Nyx’s face and not the curve of his collarbones or the deep v-cut of his lower abdomen. “Hey,” he says, mustering courage. If Prompto’s good at anything, it’s acting. “Heard about your being on house arrest, dude.” He holds the bag of groceries out in front of him. “I brought you some food!” 

Nyx’s eyes grow wide. “Shit kid, you didn’t have to do that.” He moves back and opens the door wider, ushering Prompto in. 

“Nah, it’s no problem!” Prompto moves to the kitchen and puts away the cold things, then puts the few cans and boxes in the cabinet by the fridge. He can feel Nyx close behind him as he crushes the plastic bag in his hands and tosses it in the trash can that’s already filling up with take-out containers. He turns. 

Nyx is looking at him with a curious expression, and it’s all Prompto can do not to reach out and thread his fingers through the other man’s intricate hairstyle. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing hard. “I also thought I’d ask if you needed help, uh, cleaning? Or anything. Y’know. Stuff that’s hard on your shoulder.” Prompto fixates on the layers of bandages and the blooming bruises around them. 

Nyx shrugs. “I mean, if you really want to.” 

Prompto grins. “Nah man, you know me! All this energy and nothin’ to do with it. I don’t mind at all—I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.” 

Nyx watches Prompto putter around his small studio apartment. He’s sprawled out on the couch, legs wide and right arm propped up under a couple of pillows from his bed. The Kingsglaive barracks aren’t much, but they’re subsidized and it’s a private place to call his own, so for that, he’s grateful. With the exception of a few pictures above his bed—framed postcards of Galahdian landscapes that Noctis had gifted him a few years ago—the walls are dingy and bare. But Prompto’s just as much a wizard with a mop and all-purpose cleaner as he is with guns, because Nyx can slowly start to see years’ worth of dirt and grime disappear from his floors and walls. 

It’s also not helpful that Prompto’s really started to fill out and shape up over the last several months, and Nyx is starting to _notice._ He idly summons fire spells in his hands, watching the magical flames dance across his fingers, eyes flicking back to Prompto every few minutes. Nyx thinks over the past several months and tries to figure out if the younger man has actually been flirting with him, or if Prompto’s that nice to everyone. 

Prompto’s not sure how he’s resisting temptation right now, because everyone knows that gray sweatpants equals dick print, and Nyx Ulric is _packing,_ and Prompto’s never tried to be anything other than the kinky little submissive that he is. He finishes with the sink full of dishes, leaving the plates, cups, and silverware spread out on dish towels to dry. He leans the mop up by the fridge and tosses the dirty rags in the hamper by Nyx’s bed, sighing with effort and wiping the sweat from his brow. Training, and now _this—_ even his energy has a limit. He’s starting to feel a little drained, so he crosses over to the couch and sits next to Nyx, groaning as he stretches. 

“That good enough for ya?” Prompto says, eyes closed. If he doesn’t look at Nyx he won’t be tempted by those gorgeous eyes, those washboard abs, or the monster that seems to be living between Nyx’s legs. 

“Looks great, Prompto. Thanks.” Nyx pats his belly. “Can’t wait to eat what you brought me.” 

Prompto clicks his tongue. “Or I mean, you can save that for when you’re alone and I can run and get something? I’m hungry anyway, I burned off lunch a long time ago.” He dares to open his eyes, turning his head to look at Nyx. 

It’s no use. All the blood rushes south so fast, Prompto feels dizzy. It’s just not fair for one single human to be _that_ hot. He worries at his bottom lip, and gods, Prompto’s weak—he glances at the outline of Nyx’s cock in those damn sweatpants. 

Nyx smirks as Prompto meets his gaze again. Yeah, there’s no doubt about it. Prompto's _definitely_ checking him out now, and Nyx is starting to remember several times over the last few months that he’s caught Prompto ogling him during and after training. He's not sure _how_ experienced Prompto is, but Nyx is willing to teach him whatever he doesn’t know. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, we can do take-out. But uh...I do need your help with one more thing.” He lifts his right hand. “Shoulder movement is limited, so using my right hand is kinda out of the question.” Nyx lifts his left hand and places it on his groin, slowly stroking his cock. The way that Prompto’s pretty violet-blue eyes dilate gives him goosebumps. “Now, I _could_ use my left hand, but something tells me you’d be more than happy to help me out.” 

Prompto stares at Nyx for approximately three more seconds before he scrambles on top of him, straddling the glaive, gripping his hair tight. Prompto yanks Nyx’s head back and crushes his lips to the older man’s, absolutely devouring him. Prompto moans as he rocks on top of Nyx’s groin, feeling Nyx throb and swell beneath him. He's careful not to put too much weight or pressure against the hurt shoulder—Nyx's right hand thumbing over his hip is enough. His left hand snakes under his sleeveless shirt and palms over Prompto’s lean stomach, up to his soft pecs. Nyx pinches his nipple, hard, and Prompto screams into Nyx’s mouth. 

“I always knew you’d be loud,” the glaive chuckles as he pulls back, licking his lips. Nyx has kissed a lot of people, but none so sweet and pure as the prince’s plucky little commoner friend. “You ever done this before?” 

Prompto grinds down particularly hard and Nyx hisses, throwing his head back on the couch and bucking his hips up against the other man’s body. 

“Yeah,” Prompto breathes, voice deeper than usual. “Mostly just casual hookups and one-night stands. But mostly I pretend they’re you.” 

That pierces Nyx’s heart in a way he didn’t expect. “Clothes off,” he growls. 

Nyx is amazed at how quickly Prompto is ready for him. He just laughs when Prompto shrugs and says, “I’m like a professional power bottom, dude.” Nyx is nearly overwhelmed as Prompto sinks down onto him, taking all of him in one go. He rests his right hand underneath Prompto’s supple thigh—gods, he can’t wait until he’s better so he can spend hours touching with both hands. But his left hand is roaming all over Prompto’s pale, freckled skin, squeezing at his trim waist, palming over his pecs and pinching and pulling at his nipples. 

Prompto’s in heaven. He’s not tiny by anyone’s standards, but he’s still pretty average—Nyx is seven inches at least, and _thick_. Prompto swears he can feel him in his throat. He moans in ecstasy as he lifts up and slams back down, getting Nyx to hit that sweet spot deep inside of him on the first go. His own cock is leaking pre-cum, flushed red and throbbing. Prompto takes himself into his hand and strokes himself as he bounces in Nyx’s lap, holding onto Nyx’s one good shoulder with his other hand, fingernails digging into taut muscle. 

Nyx’s toes curl as he sits back on the couch and watches Prompto blow his mind. He’s so _tight_ , wet and perfect, and the way he takes his cock like he needs it is the most attractive thing Nyx has ever seen. He watches Prompto’s long eyelashes flutter closed, plush pink lips half-open in an _o_ , lithe body bathed in a faint sheen of sweat. The freckles across his nose and upper cheeks are _so_ dark under the deep blush that’s blooming across his face, and his blond hair looks like spun gold, even under the dim light of the studio apartment. And _gods_ , is he ever _vocal_. Prompto’s crying out loud, begging _please_ _please_ _Nyx oh gods you’re so big fuck me_ , sniffing back tears, panting, choking out sobs as he works his own cock furiously. 

“ _Damn_ , Prompto,” is all Nyx can say. He can barely think. Prompto is a vision on top of him, like his heaven is Nyx’s run-down barracks and his god is Nyx himself. 

Nyx usually prides himself on stamina, but he thinks he’s met his match. It's been ten minutes and he feels ready to blow already. Prompto’s ass is just too good, that slick channel swallowing him up and squeezing him like a vice. But he wants Prompto to come first. He's so _eager_ , it makes Nyx even more turned on. He can’t help but feel jealous of all the lovers Prompto’s had before—well, they’ll talk about that later. Nyx is of a one-track mind right now. He bats Prompto’s hand away and takes over stroking him, loving the weight of Prompto’s cock in his hand. He squeezes his thigh with his right hand, hard enough to bruise—and suddenly Prompto is shuddering, screaming out loud as he paints Nyx’s chiseled abs with sticky white. Nyx milks Prompto through it until the blond slumps forward on his good shoulder, and Nyx comes barely a minute later, biting into Prompto’s skin like it’s a delicacy. Prompto lets out a filthy moan, and Nyx comes _buckets_ into Prompto’s limp and shivering body. He doesn’t even try to pull out, just stays buried until he feels himself flag, and his cock slips out of its own accord, his spend leaking out onto the couch and the floor. 

______ 

“Hey Prom, wanna go to the arcade tonight?” Noctis glances up from his phone. 

Prompto bites his lip and sighs. He's tucked against his prince, lazily scrolling through social media. He shakes his head. “Sorry buddy. I gotta go soon actually—I uh, I’ve been helping Nyx with house stuff since he got injured.” 

Noctis lifts an eyebrow and turns. “Helping with house stuff,” he repeats, skeptical. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the massive crush you have on him, does it?” 

Prompto sputters, but he knows his blush gives him away. “I’m just trying to be nice!” he squeaks. 

“Uh huh, and I’m married to Kenny Crow.” Noctis tilts his head. “Wait. Are you two fucking?” 

Prompto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well y’see, the thing is...” 

“Spare me,” Noctis groans as he flops back on the couch. “Traitor. I really wanted to play Street Fighter.” 

“Sorry bro, another day.” Prompto snorts and smacks Noct’s arm, rising and putting on his shoes. He leaves Noct’s penthouse and quivers with anticipation the whole way across town. 


End file.
